


things that changed

by bupine



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), michael is just straight vibin, the tommy meets michael fic youve all been waiting for probably, yeah man idk what else to tag this just take it and run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bupine/pseuds/bupine
Summary: tommy meets michael and is also very fucking confused as to what's going on between tubbo and ranboo. antics ensue
Relationships: TommyInnit & Ranboo, Tommyinnit & Tubbo, Tubbo & Ranboo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 643





	things that changed

**Author's Note:**

> i forgot i wrote this until now

"This is him," Tubbo says, gesturing outwards with a strained grin. "This is Michael."

Tommy stares at the ugly baby in Ranboo's arms and doesn't respond.

Michael looks mostly like a normal zombie piglin. Half the skin on his face is torn off, rotting around the edges, skull exposed to the light. He only has one ear, floppy and pink, and only has one eye, white with only the faintest hint of a pupil. There's a hole in the back of one of his hands, bone exposed, and Tommy supposes there's even more around the rest of his body - if the child wasn't wearing a long, brown jacket with a fluffy hood that covers almost all of him. Cracked tusks emerge from an open mouth. The child clutches a wooden sword and a golden nugget in hand, and seems to stare right into Tommy's very soul.

He immediately doesn't want to like him.

"We found him in the Nether the day I arrived here on the server," Ranboo says, interrupting the uncertain silence. "Or a couple days after, I forget. He's a jockey, or he was - he had a chicken, but we lost him when we were moving between dimensions. Turns out it's very difficult to transport naturally spawned mobs through portals, especially when they're two separate entities in one."

Still Tommy doesn't say anything. Ranboo shifts from foot to foot, bouncing Michael on his hip while shooting Tubbo an anxious glance. A true parent, he thinks dully. He vaguely remembers when he was very young and Wilbur would carry him throughout the house as he did chores, knowing he would fuss if he set him down. It makes his chest feel tight.

Tubbo clears his throat. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you about him, uh, sooner. Michael was kind of mine and Ranboo's secret. We didn't want anyone else to really know about him until we rescued him on Valentine's Day - it was like a, uh, a thing between the two of us. And then you got put in - well." He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Michael wriggles, grunting softly, and Ranboo sets him down. The kid sways on his feet, snuffling and clapping the gold in his palm to the handle of his sword. The three teenagers watch him in silence, with no idea of what to say.

"We've just kinda adopted him as our own," Ranboo says. "And we named him."

Tommy nods. "Cool."

It's the first word he's said in like half an hour, ever since his best friend and _fucking_ Ranboo decided to introduce him to the mob they took into their home. This is overwhelming, to put it lightly, and Tommy's long stopped caring what people think of his blank stares and long silences. Or so he tells himself.

"I'm gonna go," Tommy mumbles after another period of just watching Michael stumble around the room in relative silence. "Meeting with Connor soon. Don't wanna be late."

Tubbo and Ranboo exchange looks and Tommy feels sick to his stomach, knowing that his friend thinks differently of him now, knowing that they're going to talk about him once he leaves, knowing he probably won't speak to either of them for the rest of the day and probably tomorrow as well. "Ok," Tubbo says, voice wavering uncertainly even as he tries to keep up the guise of cheer. "We'll see you soon then, yeah?"

Tommy nods. "Mhm," he agrees, knowing it's probably not true. "Yeah."

The older teens see him out. The cold bites the exposed parts of Tommy's skin despite the heavy jacket Sam lent him over a month ago, and he has to stop a few times under trees and in caves when the feeling gets too much and he worries he'll pass out. He doesn't spare Jack Manifold's hotel a glance as he passes by, and collapses in his shitty dirt house as soon as he's inside, too tired to even message Connor and let him know he's not showing up. Maybe he'll assume he's dead again and come to his house to steal it back from him.

* * *

Tubbo wants to meet up again. They've barely spoken in a week, which Tommy will admit is entirely his fault; he's ignored half the Whispers Tubbo's sent him, not caring enough to respond. This time, however, Tommy decides to humor him. _Meet me at the docks?_ Tubbo asks. _Sure, I'll be there soon_ is Tommy's response.

He arrives late due to taking a detour to avoid seeing Jack's hotel. Tubbo's already sitting at the edge near the water, knees pulled up to his chest and rocking slightly like he does when he's nervous. Tommy's heart doesn't ache at the sight. It doesn't.

"Hey," he mutters, and sits next to the older boy. Tubbo startles, but Tommy doesn't look at him. Just keeps far away enough that there's no chance of them accidentally touching.

"Hey, man," Tubbo says softly. Tommy hears the smile in his voice. "I've missed you."

Tommy knows how fucking selfish he is. He knows how childish and stupid he's acting. He knows he's made his brother, his best friend, upset. But he can't help the ridiculous thoughts of _if you really missed me, you would have been sadder when I died and you wouldn't have fucking replaced me and gone off and been happy while I was suffering through literal torture. You wouldn't have been so happy. You shouldn't have been so happy._

"Yeah," Tommy whispers, and draws his knees to his chest, mimicking Tubbo's body language without entirely realizing. "'S good to see you."

That's true. Tommy missed him so fucking badly it ached. It still aches.

"Listen," Tubbo says. A bird screeches somewhere above, probably waiting to swoop down and pluck a fish from the sea. "I just wanna let you know that I'm here for you no matter what, just like always. That's still true. That's never changed. I need you to know that, ok, Toms? That's still true."

 _"Don't_ call me Toms," Tommy snaps, as a reflex.

Tubbo stiffens. "Ok. Sorry."

Tommy immediately feels bad. "No, it's - Gods, it's not to do with _you_. Dream… called me that, all the time, ever since exile. It kinda, uh…" He laughs without humour, shaking his head. "Kinda ruined the name for me."

A pause. "Oh," Tubbo says, and blows the air out his cheeks. "I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna nuke him into bedrock. I'm gonna chop his dick off."

A startled laugh shakes Tommy's body, which surprises both Tubbo and himself, and within a moment they're both giggling like kids and he feels younger again. It's nice for just a second. Then Tommy's chest pangs like it always does whenever he breathes too quickly and his laughter turns into a coughing fit and he's brought back down to the reality where his body is fucked in a million ways from the hundreds of incidents he's been involved in over the last year that have scarred him permanently. He goes quiet. Tubbo does too.

"Are you ok?" the older boy asks, and he's so gentle about it that Tommy wants to fucking cry like a little kid then and there. He wants Tubbo to hug him. He doesn't ask. He digs his own nails into his arms and shakes his head.

"No," he says, voice small. "I'm really, really not."

Tubbo taps the wooden boards between them. "Talk to me."

He doesn't want to. He wants to be angry. He wants to hit Tubbo and tear the ground apart and blow the world to smithereens and kill everyone who's ever hurt him in a thousand different ways.

"I'm scared of being alone," he mumbles instead, so softly that he almost hopes Tubbo didn't hear him.

The water laps against the poles that hold up the dock, the soft rumbling of the sea filling his ears.

"Hold my hand," Tubbo says. "If you want. I won't force you or be upset if you don't -"

Tommy grabs his hand before he can even finish because he knows he'll chicken out if he doesn't do it immediately. The contact fucking _burns_ , his skin ridiculously sensitive, but he and Tubbo have always held hands for comfort when one or both of them is upset and it makes him feel grounded again.

"I'm being a selfish prick and I'm sorry," Tommy whispers. The wind feels like it's stealing the words from his mouth and carrying them away. "I know how irrational I'm acting. There's just - a part of me that's angry that you were happy while I wasn't and it doesn't make sense, but here we are. I don't know. Nothing makes sense in my goddamn head."

Tubbo sighs, shifting on the spot so that they're slightly closer. Tommy tenses, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to still. Tubbo doesn't notice. "That's understandable. I… I felt the same way, as well. Angry at myself for being happy when I knew you were hurting, angry at myself for doing things that benefited myself - I don't know. I tried isolating myself from Ranboo for a while because I - yeah. I couldn't help you and I was so fucking pissed off and then you died and it was like the world just stopped."

Tommy finally turns to look at his brother. A pang of guilt stabs his chest at the red splotches around Tubbo's eyes. "You missed me that much?" 

"I did," Tubbo confirms, and their eyes meet. Tommy notices his ocean greens are dimmer now, darker. "I did, Tommy, I did."

Tommy takes a deep breath. His free hand scratches the planks beneath him. "For what it's worth," he says slowly, gathering the courage. "I'm glad you have Ranboo. He seems like he's been a - a really good friend to you. And I'm genuinely - I'm glad he makes you happy."

A soft smile crosses Tubbo's face, and he goes red, laughing softly. "Right, uh, about that - you know how I said I got married?"

Tommy blinks. "I thought you were joking."

Tubbo drops Tommy's hand and covers his face, giggling into his hands. "Well, I - I _kind_ of was, because we're not, like, actually married yet - we're just - well, we joked about it, saying we were gonna get married for tax benefits, but then we both kinda realized that we actually - you know -"

The realization hits like an anvil. "Oh, don't tell me you're dating fucking _Ranboo."_

Tubbo bursts into peals of laughter, bright red in the face, and Tommy can't help but join in. "For fuck's sake!" he cries, throwing his hands up in the air. "I cannot _believe_ you!"

"Oh, come on, I wasn't even _trying_ to be subtle," Tubbo giggles, wiping tears from his eyes. "You're just dumb and oblivious."

 _"I am not dumb_ \- Tubbo, you have _terrible_ taste in men. What the _fuck."_

This spurs another round of laughter. They don't stop until Tommy can't breathe and has to cough into his arms, and even then he's still shaking his head in disbelief as Tubbo offers him water with a hand that shakes with giggles. It feels normal again. And maybe that was all they really needed.

* * *

"He's ugly," Tommy declares. "He is very, very ugly."

Tubbo gasps in mock shock. "Don't you dare say that about our son."

Tommy raises an eyebrow. "He takes after Ranboo."

Ranboo splutters, and pride swells in Tommy's chest at the way he makes Tubbo laugh. "You are so mean!" his brother giggles. "He's a _baby!"_

"You said he was about three, right?" Tommy asks, staring down at the piglin in disdain. "He can take it."

"Michael, come here," Ranboo calls from where he's standing on the other side of the room. "Tommy doesn't deserve you."

Michael snuffles and, instead of running in the direction of Ranboo's voice like he normally would, darts over to his chair and clambers on top of it unsteadily. He grips the back of the chair and bounces, whining as he does so.

Tommy wrinkles his nose. "What's he doing?"

Ranboo sighs, crossing his arms. "He's hungry. I'll go brew up a damage potion, I think we're out. Tubbo, do we have any glistering melons?"

Tubbo clicks his tongue. "Uhhh… I think Jack Manifold has some. I'll go over to his and steal some while you start brewing - Tommy, can you watch Michael for like, five minutes?"

Tommy startles. "I - _me?_ Look after a _kid?_ No chance, man."

Tubbo looks at him with big eyes, pouting slightly. "Please, Tete? _Pleaseeee?"_

Ranboo snorts. Tommy flushes, dumbfounded and slightly warmed. "Fucking hell, you haven't called me Tete since we were _twelve_ \- you're really pulling out all the stops here, man."

Tubbo grins wickedly. "Is it working?"

Tommy huffs. "Absolutely not," he lies firmly.

Michael makes a loud shrieking sound that makes Tommy gasp, clutching his chest. "Oh Gods above, _fine,"_ he groans, rolling his eyes. "If only to make the child shut up."

"There's a joke to be made there," Ranboo teases, but his eyes are soft and he's definitely smiling under his mask. "Thanks, Tommy."

"Don't mention it, dickhead," Tommy mumbles.

Tubbo bounces on the spot, clapping his hands eagerly. "Michael, Michael!" he coos. "You get to bond with your uncle, isn't that exciting? Isn't that exciting, Mikey? That's so exciting, yes it is!"

Ranboo descends down the ladder to the lower floors, his laughter echoing as he disappears, and Tommy can't help but feel just slightly awkward at his friend's antics. "Go on, feed your kid," he says quietly, smacking Tubbo with the sleeve of his hoodie. "And if Jack's got any valuables, I want them. Steal something for me."

Tubbo rolls his eyes. "If you say so."

Then Tommy is left alone with the child.

Michael seems to stare at him. He only has one working eye, but his gaze still bears into the teen without him even having to try. Tommy feels his skin crawl. "What?" he mutters, stiffening. "Just… go play. Play with your gold. Stop looking at me."

Michael pauses. Then he shrieks again, startling Tommy so badly he swears he feels his heart stop, and leaps down from his chair to pick something up from behind it. His sword. Even the thick, blunt wood of it makes Tommy tense up and almost forget how to breathe.

"Put that shit down," he snaps. "Don't you take that anywhere near me, you… fuckin' child. Stay over there in your corner and I'll stay in mine."

Michael tilts his head. Then he takes a step towards Tommy, like he's experimenting. Tommy's breath hitches, and he presses his back against the wall.

Michael takes another step and screeches. Tommy screws his eyes up and claps his hands over his mouth.

 _You're about to have a panic attack over a baby with a wooden sword,_ mocks the unhelpful part of his brain. The voice sounds like Wilbur. _Pull yourself together, idiot._

He forces himself to open his eyes again to see Michael right in front of him, staring up with an open mouth. Tommy resists the urge to scream.

"Please move away," he says through gritted teeth. "Uh… Michael. Please."

Michael snuffles again, softly. Then he drops his sword. It clatters loudly and Tommy prides himself on not jumping at the sound this time, but then Michael shuffles forward and knocks his forehead against Tommy's legs and he can't help but let out a strangled cry that's only barely muffled by his hand.

He stares out the window beside him and mentally curses every instance in his life that's led up to him being terrified of the touch of this literal baby that's currently cuddling his leg.

"Let go," he says faintly. "Please."

Michael's hands are very small and cold and his fingers are barely fingers, short and stubby. Claws sharp. He grips Tommy's cargo trousers and squeaks up at him, his eye wide. Then he lets go - fucking finally - and lifts his arms into the air.

Tommy swallows hard. "What?"

Michael furrows his singular brow, looking mildly frustrated. He keeps making noises, the signature grunts and groans of the piglin language - _Technoblade would know what he's trying to say,_ Tommy thinks dimly. "I don't know what you're saying, kid. Just wait until your dads come back, yeah? I'm not - I'm not qualified for this."

Michael shrieks again and bounces on the spot, arms still firmly in the air. Tommy blinks, realizing. "You… want up."

Michael makes several pleased gurgling sounds, patting Tommy's chest as he reaches upwards. Tommy shakes his head. "No."

Michael whimpers. His little fists waver as he bounces up and down and Tommy's chest still feels tight. Why aren't Tubbo and Ranboo back? Why had he promised Tubbo that he'd try again with Michael? Gods, he makes such _stupid_ promises when he's soft and vulnerable. _Cringe_.

"I don't know if I should," he whispers, like he's telling the kid a secret. "I have a tendency to hurt people. I hurt your dad, do you know? He was sad because of me. I could hurt you too."

Michael is silent now. Tommy crouches down in front of the baby, meeting his eye. "I'm dangerous to be around," he sing-songs, raising an eyebrow. "You don't want me holding you."

Michael blinks lazily with his good eye. Then he reaches out and slowly grips Tommy's hoodie strings, giving them an experimental tug. Tommy's breath hitches. The piglin snuffles deeply, and leans against Tommy's chest.

Tommy, very gently, wraps his arms around the kid and lifts him off his feet, held closely to his chest. Michael immediately goes limp, and panic spikes in Tommy - but the kid has just relaxed against him, burying his face in the crook of Tommy's neck. The tusks scrape his skin and the sensation is overall so uncomfortable that he wants to drop the kid and run, but he doesn't. He grimaces and walks in a slow circle, humming to himself to keep himself distracted.

It's like holding a sack of potatoes. An undead sack of potatoes. He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his hand up and down the piglin's back like Wilbur had done to him long ago.

There's a bang from behind him, and he jumps. Tubbo's climbing into the room from the trapdoor. "Hey, is everything -" he starts, then takes in the scene before him - Michael slumped into Tommy's chest, Tommy holding him awkwardly. Tubbo breaks out in a smile. "Awww. He likes you."

Tommy makes a face. "He smells weird."

Ranboo follows Tubbo up, bursting into quiet cackles when he sees Tommy's predicament. "Need some help?" he asks, and finally takes the sleepy child from Tommy's arms, giving Michael a bottle of potion to drink. "He looks like he's about to fall asleep."

"He kept following me," Tommy whispers. His skin is crawling from the contact now that he's no longer in shock. "Weird fuckin' - your kid is strange. I don't like him."

Ranboo and Tubbo exchange amused looks. "Sure, sure," Tubbo says, nodding with a wicked glint in his eye. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

Tommy hesitates. "You want me back?" Then he realizes how sad that sounds and flushes. "I did just insult your weird son and all."

Ranboo laughs, bouncing the piglin in his arms. "Hey, you'd be welcome no matter what. You're our - you're a friend."

Tommy has tried to never consider Ranboo a friend. He was an accomplice, then a lifeline, then a vague acquaintance, then… nothing, really. Now he's his brother's husband, and Tommy figures the least he can do is make nice. And… maybe a friend wouldn't be too bad either.

"Well," he says with a grin, glancing at Michael, half asleep. "I think that would be alright."

**Author's Note:**

> @bupine on tumblr and instagram, and @bupine_art on twitter B)


End file.
